


the devil is in the details

by thekuroiookami



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Crack?, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Kyrie mention, Nonsense, One Shot, grown men failing at life, pure comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 15:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18577084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekuroiookami/pseuds/thekuroiookami
Summary: Nero, Dante and Vergil attempt to overcome their greatest challenge yet.





	the devil is in the details

Dante stared at the thing, which gleamed like cleaved bone in moonlight. That, he was familiar with, so it was less unsettling. He tilted his head at Vergil, who looked equally (or even more) lost. Vergil leveled his formidable gaze at Nero.

 

_Heh._

 

The boy sighed, and rolled his shoulders. "Don't look at me, Kyrie usually does this. All I know for sure is that you can't put the whites in with the other...stuff."

 

The washing machine seemed to shine even more smugly. Dante resisted the urge to back up. "That ain't gonna be a problem, seeing as I have no idea what colour my clothes were when I started."

 

Vergil clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Why must I be subjected to this triviality?"

 

"Because the girls said and, I paraphrase, the stench is probably why the demons keep dying in hordes. Kyrie and Nico will never let us near them if we don't get clean."

 

"I am not interested in the company or opinions of women," Vergil replied with a touch of grandeur.

 

"That's clearly a lie," Nero muttered. Dante snorted.

 

Vergil paused, obviously at a loss. After a long, awkward silence that Dante was forever going to cherish, his brother finally spoke.  "I wear black precisely to avoid this kind of thing."

 

"That only hides the bloodstains, bro." Dante cracked his knuckles and shifted his weight to his left foot. "Let's get this over with."

 

Nero peered at him suspiciously. "Why are you being so helpful now, old man?"

 

"The pizza guy wouldn't deliver. Said I was a public health hazard and that he'd rather take his chances with the blood-sucking ants."

 

Nero nodded and looked back at the instrument of doom. "I guess it's now or never."

 

Vergil gave it his best stare of intimidation, complete with demonic glow. "I have conquered the roots of Hell, and held the human realm in my fist. I will not be beaten by this...device."

 

"Technically," drawled Dante, "you were an almighty demon for all of ten minutes before I whooped your ass."

 

"Is it just me or does old age make it harder for you biddies to stay on track?"

 

Nero smirked when they both glared at him. He hefted the basket of laundry in his arms. "So, I think you can't put in more than 10 kgs of clothing in there. Does this look like too much?"

 

Vergil frowned. "How many litres of blood is that?"

 

Dante and Nero slowly swiveled to look at him. He folded his arms and shrugged. "My priorities were different for a while," he said with what sounded like a touch of defensiveness.

 

Dante gave up, scratching the back of his neck. "Is that like, an empusa's worth of weight? Or maybe just a hell-bat?"

 

Nero groaned. "You know what? I'm just gonna do it." He chucked the clothes into the maw of the beast in one go and kicked the door shut.

 

Vergil bent to examine it. "What is one to do with this profusion of buttons?"

 

"They're different settings for different types of fabric," Nero explained. "So I guess for your coats we'd use...what exactly are they made of again?"

 

"Behemoth leather," murmured Vergil at the same time Dante said, "The souls of his unsuspecting victims, definitely."

 

Vergil sighed and looked at the ceiling. "So melodramatic, Dante."

 

Before Dante could absorb the enormous, no, monumental hypocrisy of that, Nero finished deciding on a cycle. "30 degrees it is, you assholes have some apologizing to do to the environment anyway. If anything shrinks, don't blame me. Now, the difficult part."

 

Dante and Vergil tensed as Nero grimly held out a box. "I don't know how much detergent goes in there."

 

His brother cast a fleeting glance of yearning at the window. "Why is this a crisis that requires my intervention?"

 

"Because in all the nauseating rom-coms the girls make me slog through, they inevitably add too much and the whole thing explodes into a sea of foam."

 

"It's an explosive device?" Vergil looked intrigued.

 

Dante poked the metal death trap with his gun. "Why does it need anything other than water to wash?"

 

"Why do you need shaving foam to shave? Oh wait, you _don't_ shave. Just accept it and move on." Nero thrust the box into his hands. "If something happens, I want to be able to tell Kyrie I had nothing to do with it."

 

He strode out of the room, leaving Dante and Vergil standing there in towels, holding a box of something that smelled awfully like sunshine and lemons.  Since Dante was never one to back down from a challenge, he decided to go for it. "Where does it powder crap go, anyway?"

 

Vergil tilted his head in though and trailed his hand over the buttons before sliding out a small drawer. "Here?"

 

"Ain't that too small? There's a lot more clothes in there than the powder this can hold."

 

"Then why include this?"

 

"To store spare ammo in or somethin'? I don't know, but it doesn't make sense."

 

Vergil shrugged. "Up to you."

 

Figuring that it might as well be all or nothing, Dante opened the door, tipped in a quarter of the box, and shut it again. He then jabbed the biggest button and nodded in triumph as the monster rumbled to life.

 

"I'm sure this will be fine."

 


End file.
